


Secrets We Keep

by IShouldBe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, F/M, Romance, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:16:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShouldBe/pseuds/IShouldBe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Was that your plan, Miss Granger? To scream obscenities and leave?" </p><p>SS/HG HEA...Always :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As ever, Harry Potter is not mine. If he were, Severus Snape would be alive and well and shacked up with a certain Know-it-all...
> 
> Warnings  
> Erm, those who like Ron Weasley should stop reading now…
> 
> Okay, I'll assume anyone reading from this point on is happy with Ron-bashing. He's completely odious in the first part of this fic, just to warn you.
> 
> I was writing this with a different outcome in mind. All plot, and angst and violence…then Severus said two words. And –everything— changed. He's a bad, bad man…
> 
>  
> 
> M and a little bit of angst with lashings of fluff. Totally HEA.

* * *

"Rat's nest!"

Hermione Granger slammed the door to the side room and threw up a ward. Her wand stabbed a  _silencio_  at the walls, her magic sweeping around her in a wild rush.

"Flat-chested!"

She flicked her wand and cast a lighting charm to any candles littering the room. Golden light flared, the surge of sudden flame a strange growl. She frowned at the small room with its desk, shelves packed with scrolls and books and the archways leading to a warren of similar rooms. But her anger quashed her curiosity. Damn, Ronald Weasley. A pox on him.

She swore under her breath, the fury she felt tightening her chest. Heat burned in her face. "Frigid!" The word burst from her. "An ice-box? Bastard!"

Hermione stalked to the large, empty hearth. She stood before it, unseeing, breathing hard, the prick of tears threatening to fall. Her life hadn't been her own until the end of the war, until its final day. And she'd wanted to wait. To make it special. To make it matter. Was that so hard to understand? She was…grieving. So many had been lost… She pushed down the familiar aching pain that always seemed to punch a hole through her heart. Not  _him_. Not now.

There was so much else; her life was in turmoil. To push away all thought, she'd crammed for her NEWTs, finishing them only days before. It had hardly helped. Her parents were back, their memories restored, but with a coldness, an aloofness that stabbed her. The war was not long over and she couldn't rush into anything when her heart was still in such a mess. Voldemort had been dead just three months, along with his Death Eaters, all succumbing to his final curse. The Dark Mark devouring them whole.

Hermione shuddered at the memory of seeing Lucius Malfoy clutching his arm in pain…and then disbelief as flesh and blood peeled away to expose the bones in his wrist and forearm. Before invisible razors slashed away at those too…

Nothing could stop the curse. Nothing. He took a whole hour to die.

She pressed her the heels of her hands to her eyes, pushing against the sockets. The hideous memory killed her fury. The thoughts she'd fought to deny all summer lurched within her again.

Had  _Severus Snape_  met the same end? Had his body torn itself apart even after his death? Nightmares had plagued her that summer, of how they had simply left him after his last breath had escaped his body. His death playing over and over through her dreams. And his voice condemning her for her failure…

She'd tried. She'd tried  _everything_. Shoved a bezoar past his slack lips. Poured the potions she had after it, ignoring Ron's demands that she leave the greasy traitor. But she couldn't… She'd pressed her hands to his torn throat, his life's blood spilling over her fingers so fast. So fast… But he'd slipped away. She'd thought he'd looked at her in his final moments, eyes darker than midnight, and framed by the longest lashes. Utterly beautiful…

Hermione closed her eyes and shoved down the sour pain. She couldn't change what had happened. Severus Snape was dead. Gone.

And Ronald Weasley was a complete idiot.

She pressed her lips together. She'd planned…she'd planned that the night of this stupid ball she would sleep with him. Her contraceptive potion and the magical vial for collecting her virgin blood nestled in her transfigured beaded bag. Ready.

She'd even patted it, smiling before she stepped into the hearth at Grimmauld Place to floo to the vastness of the Ministry atrium. They were all to meet up there and go together into the celebratory Ministry ball. She'd been nervous, excited, jitters filling her stomach. Good jitters, she told herself. It was time. It was right. Finally. She was moving on with her life. Her nerves were simply inexperience. Nothing more. This is what a girlfriend did. But she winced as that voice sounded too much like Ron's rather than her own.

The atrium was loud and packed, the bustle of so many over-excited people almost crushing. Ron had taken her hands in his and drew her into the grey shadows of one of the arches. His grin –cheeky, assured— had made her echo his smile and she didn't object when he pulled her to him.

She frowned when his large hand planted itself on her backside.

"Gods, Hermione you look  _hot_. Let's do it now."

Hermione stared at him and her gut clenched. Did he mean what she thought he meant? She threw up a non-verbal  _muffialto_  and a notice-me-note charm and fought the sudden ache in her chest. "Do what, Ronald?"

His grin deepened and he ground himself against her. "Fuck, Mione. I've been aching for days. Near broke my wrist with the amount of…well, you know. We've been together a month. A  _month_. It doesn't help that every one of our friends are at like nifflers dosed on a potion."

She pressed her hands to his chest. "You want us to have sex, here, in this alcove, with our friends and your family right behind us?"

He obviously hadn't picked up on her stiffness or the clipped edge to her words, because he was nodding, that now odious grin still in place. "It'll be like old times. A dark alcove behind a tapestry, never knowing if McGonagall or Snape is going to catch you bare-arsed."

Pain lanced though her chest. Oh, that did it. She knew he had more experience than her. That he'd had sex with Lavender Brown and possibly others. After all, she'd shared a room with Lavender, and the girl had been more than pleased to detail her exploits –loudly— with Parvati.

But not once had Ron ever pulled her behind a tapestry. She'd only been good for homework or keeping them all  _alive_. She'd been the friend, the almost-not-a-girl, and he'd been happy as long as she was seen pining after him. Merlin forbid she should show interest in anyone else, whilst  _he_  shagged about.

"We never did that, Ronald."

He flushed and his grin dipped. But then he smirked and squeezed her behind. "Well, here it is, now's your chance."

She struggled out of his hold. "No, thank you."

Ron scrubbed his hand down his face. "Merlin's sake, Mione. You can't keep doing this. You're supposed to be my girlfriend. It's what girlfriends do."

There was the echo of her thoughts. His words fixing in her head. "And that means I have to have sex with you here and now?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. But you've hardly let me touch you."

She opened her mouth to defend the fact that they'd kissed lots of times and stopped. No. She didn't have to justify anything. He was pushing her. And she hadn't been…wasn't ready. An hour before, she had been prepared to go through with it. And didn't that sound like she was girding herself for an ordeal? Not something that she should enjoy, but something she must endure…

Ron hadn't noticed her pause. Did he notice anything about her? Ever?

"I mean, yes, you gave me that hand job last week, but I had to practically grab your fingers and hold you there. Doesn't make a man feel wanted, you know?" He grinned again, as if fact that he'd all but forced her to touch him was all in good fun.

She'd brought him to orgasm with odd detachment, analysing the feel of his penis in her hand. The almost spongy hardness, the musky scent of his skin, the sound of her palm and fingers trapped under his, slick and sliding, making a strange sort of smacking noise, one almost lost to Ron's pleasured grunts. That's when he wasn't begging for her to let him push his penis into her mouth. And then he came, his face scrunched and red and sweating. His jaw slackened, his eyes glazed and she wondered if she was supposed to be happy that she'd brought him such pleasure. But she didn't know.

And she didn't want to know. It hit her then and the thought of it was a fierce wave of relief. She didn't want to know, because she didn't want  _him_.

"We should be getting back, Ron."

"A blowjob."

She blinked. She backed away from him, stopping on the edge of the shadowed alcove. Her spells teased across her shoulders. "Excuse me?"

"I'm dying here, Mione." It was all but a whine. "What can I do? What can I get you? Books. I'll give you any book you want. Please, Mione?"

She stared at him and her heart wrenched. He would buy her a book for a blowjob. An exchange of goods for services rendered. She pressed a hand to her mouth. "I am not a  _whore_ , Ronald Weasley."

He frowned, oblivious to his insult. "Good girls do blowjobs too." He gave her a sharp grin. "I won't complain if you don't swallow."

What had she ever seen in him? Should she have been glad that he'd never thought of her as girlfriend material before? Had Lavender and whomever else he'd been with put up with his crudity? Enjoyed it? He thought only of his own pleasure. His own needs. It only confirmed her decision that she wanted her life disconnected from his.

"I think…I think we should end this, Ron." She lifted her chin. "I don't like you speaking to me this way."

"What?" He stared at her, his brow furrowing. "What are you talking about? We're together, Mione." Something hardened in his pale gaze and his hands balled into fists. Red burned across his cheeks. "Is there someone else?"

"No!"

"Is that why you won't put out?"

"Put out...?" The hideous phrase rattled around her brain as she fought to think straight. Had he ever listened to her? She seemed to exist in his head as a whole other person, not herself at all. "I'm not listening to this—"

He grabbed her arm before she could break free of the alcove. "I'm right, aren't I? You've just been stringing me along. Was it some sort of fucked up revenge? I ignore you, so this is you getting your own back?" He leaned in close, his face twisted into a sneer. "Well, I ignored you for a reason. D'you think I wanted to choke on that rat's nest you call hair? And I like my women to feel like women." He reared back to leer at the front of her dress. "You don't even have a handful."

She slapped him. Hard.

He rubbed his cheek, the sneer still fixing his features. "And that's the only bit of passion you've had for me," he spat. "I hope whoever you've moved on to likes their dick chilled. Because who else, Miss Frigid, would want to stick their dick in that icebox?"

Ron lashed out when he was slighted. She knew that. Had always known that. Still, that her one time friend, a boy who she'd planned to share her body with that night, could be so...nasty...

Hermione sneered back at him. She patted her beaded bag. "Well —he— will benefit from my planning. And —he— won't find me cold. Not  _anything_  about me."

She turned and strode away, her chin up, pushing into the mass of people surging forward into a huge ballroom. Her heart was in her throat and she wanted to scream, but she was almost choking. Anger, hatred, betrayal swamped her. How could he? How could he think, could he  _say_  those things to her?

For one moment, she wished there was a man, brave and courteous, who would treat her as she ached to be treated. To be held in strong arms as his lips brushed her forehead and a low, smooth voice promising that it would be all right. But there wasn't that man. Voldemort had taken him, just as he turned everything else in her life to shit.

Her anger surged anew. She spied a door and broke from the crowd…

…and that was how she found herself staring at a strange fireplace in a strange room.

Hermione pushed out a slow breath. She didn't want Ron. But what he'd lashed at her had hurt. They'd been friends for nearly seven years. She huffed out a breath. She should've known beginning a friendship from a lie would catch her out in the end. "Should've made the troll eat him."

She lifted her shoulders, conjured a mirror and looked over her reflection. Not too scary. A few wand flicks later and her hair was caught again at the nape of her neck and the few touches of make-up she preferred warmed her skin.

She stared at her chest with its modest neckline. Her mouth pursed. So she wasn't something from…from PlayWizard, but she was healthy and fit. That was what mattered. Not how much of her body Ronald Bilius Weasley would fit into his disgustingly sweaty hands.

Hermione vanished the mirror and turned back to the door, thankful for the little room. She had a ceremony to get through –Kingsley had hinted that the Orders of Merlin would be a part of the ball— though why the circumspection she had no idea. Who would receive an award was also a mystery. The list was beyond secret.

She patted the doorframe and smiled back into the room, not feeling better about Ron and his idiocy, but at least calm enough in herself to survive the rest of the night. "Thank you for hiding me." She had no clue if the room was similar to Hogwarts in its quasi-sentience, but it never hurt to be polite. The lights behind her flickered and a smile tugged at her lips. It seemed that it was.

"Was that your plan,  _Miss Granger_? To scream obscenities and leave?"

Her heart was a hard and heavy stone and she couldn't catch her breath. She knew that voice. One she thought she'd never hear again. She gripped the doorframe, fighting the sudden sweep of dizziness. "Severus…?"

She risked a look behind her. He was there, leaning against the plastered curve of one of the archways, a lean, dark shadow. Golden light carved his harsh features, his curtain of hair shining, his endless eyes almost mesmeric.

A brief, cutting smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. "Hello, wife."

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Hermione staggered back against the wall, pressing her hands against the smoothness in an attempt to keep herself on her feet. Her legs were jelly. She closed her eyes. "How…?"

"Am I alive?"

She opened her eyes staring at the man she'd mourned, the man who had infested her dreams with blood and death. She'd thought herself his widow. But her husband of almost two years was very much alive. He looked…younger. Less careworn. He was still thin, but there was strength there now. He'd survived the combined vows of Dumbledore and Voldemort. Amazing. Utterly amazing. "Yes…"

"I was still alive when you left me."

"No!" The word burst from her and she clapped a hand to her mouth. A fist twisted her heart. He'd  _died_. She'd felt something…break within her. She assumed it was her bond with him. Her eyes burned. "I…I tried…"

"You  _succeeded_."

She drew in a long, shaky breath. Her eyes burned and tears fell free. He was  _alive_. In an insane moment, she wanted to fling her arms around him, let his heat, his scent, his pulse envelop her, beat under her ear. But that had not been their marriage. He had stated that from the very beginning. It had been one of…convenience. Expediency.

Her hand curled into a trembling fist and she pressed it against her own wide smile. Still…  _Alive_. But how…? Her gaze flicked down to his left arm, the shadows of the arch concealing it. "Your Dark Mark? I was with Lucius Malfoy when he... You survived Nagini. But how did you survive that?"

He straightened and that urge to throw her arms around him swept over her again. "The snake's venom. It…neutralised the curse."

"Nagini was a part of Voldemort." Hermione had become used to saying the name over the summer, a name she had never used in front of her husband. But he didn't flinch, didn't hiss. That fact unexpectedly warmed her. "Held a part of his soul."

"So I have been informed." He moved to the line of bookcases with his usual lithe grace. His long fingers traced over the first pile of scrolls. "I was washed through with the Dark Lord." A muscle jumped in his cheek. "With  _Tom Riddle_. It stripped the power from my Mark. We think. He used such obscure, dark magic, it's almost impossible to trace it. The result is my Mark is gone and I'm alive."

"Can I see?"

She'd been exposed to his Dark Mark in her fourth year and as his wife —in name only— had caught the occasional glimpse of his corrupted skin.

Severus looked at her with unreadable eyes, took out his ebony wand and traced it along the inner sleeve of his familiar frock coat. It fell away and revealed the alabaster skin of his forearm. Clear. Unblemished.

Hermione pushed herself away from the wall. A heartbeat later her fingers touched his warm skin, drawing a line down over its surprising softness, with the solidity of hard muscles and bone beneath. She looked up at him, her fingertips still tracing slow lines against him and she grinned. She  _knew_  how much the Mark had pained him. And now he was free of it. "Gods, Severus…"

She couldn't resist her third urge. She flung her arms around him –and for a long,  _long_  moment— everything was right in her world. Hesitant arms folded across her back and his chin rested against her hair. Hermione closed her eyes, drawing in his scent. The hint of herbs that seemed to cling to him. Clean amber soap. And something indefinably  _him_.

"Why are you in here?"

Hermione stared at the ornate button so close to her. Her belly turned over. Yes, time to explain to her husband how the man she'd planned to sleep with that night had been a complete shit. She pulled back from him and missed the warmth of his solid body immediately. She pressed her hand to his chest, needing to touch him, to feel that he was real. "We should sit."

His hand closed over hers and he led her through an arch to another little room, more a library than an office. Two wingback chairs were set before a fire. It sprung to life, offering a golden glow to the surrounding shelves, the warm scents of crackling wood and books easing her nerves.

Sometimes they had sat in his rooms just like this. A moment of quiet calm in the eye of the storms that surged around them. Around him. In the chaos after the war, she'd never found that peace with anyone. She hadn't realised how much it had been missed.

Severus bid her sit and she sank into the softness of the chair, a sigh escaping her. "What is this place?"

"My home."

Hermione blinked. Prince House? She'd never thought to set foot in the place. "Your…?"

Severus lifted an eyebrow and she blushed. Explanations, yes.

"I felt our bond break, Severus. Something inside me ended with you on the floor of the Shrieking Shack." She flicked a glance at him, but his gaze was impassive. She sought the flames on the hearth. She couldn't admit that it seemed as if something had  _died_ within her that night. For all his own melodrama, Severus hated it in other people. "I thought you were gone."

"So you said."

Hermione bit her lip, a nervous habit he had broke in her. It seemed not. A smile twitched before fading. "Everything was chaos. And Ron, Ron was there. I thought I had feelings for him." Her mouth twisted. "Thought."

"How long were you together?"

"Thirty one days."

"You count it as if it were a prison sentence."

A bitter laugh broke from her. "I got out on good behaviour."

Severus huffed a laugh and warmth ran through her, bubbling in her chest. She'd so rarely made him laugh. Each time was a treasure. His face settled, something dark and serious. "A month, then. And he made…demands tonight."

It was a statement. Severus had been a teacher for almost half of his life. He  _knew_  teenage boys. Hermione nodded, even as guilt tightened within her. Her nerves earlier, she recognised now as the first stirring of that guilt. A betrayal of a husband she hadn't even kissed.

"And you  _almost_  agreed."

Another stated fact. He knew her too. She closed her eyes, unable to look at him. There was no censure in his voice, and that made it so much worse. It seemed…expected. That she would betray him.

A tear slipped free. "I'm so sorry." She sucked in a long breath and pressed her hand to her face. "It was something I felt I should do. What  _girlfriends_  do." She sneered out the word. "But he was…he was horrible. And I realised I'd had a lucky escape. Without it, I might have…" She shuddered at the thought of her and Ron naked. "I broke up with him." Her lips pressed together. "I wish I would've blue-ball hexed him. That'd make him feel his  _needs_."

"Weasley's awareness of your marriage to me obviously led to…expectations."

"He doesn't know. I didn't tell anyone. Dumbledore,  _you_ , said it was a secret. I was not about to betray you. Even in death."

Severus blinked and his mouth opened. She took a guess at his next words.

"And I wasn't ashamed. Not of you. Not of our marriage, or why it had to happen. It was private.  _Mine_." Her voice broke unexpectedly. Her emotions still surged within her, wild and chaotic. Ron's awfulness and now Severus, alive and sitting before her. Right _there_. And she had  _hugged_  him. Wrapped her arms around the firm reality of him. "Precious." The word was little more than a whisper.

"Hermione…"

"Can you hold me again? Please?"

Severus opened his arms and Hermione crawled onto his lap. Strong arms held her and she almost sobbed as his lips brushed her forehead. This was only the second time he'd held her, but it felt right. It felt like home. She knew then that her bond hadn't died in the Shrieking Shack. The crack of pain in her chest that night was her heart breaking. She had no idea when it had happened, but somewhere in their strange marriage —a binding to satisfy a will and give him access to the Prince estate and the dark books and artefacts tied to it— she'd fallen in love with her husband.

She sighed and pressed her forehead to his jaw. Harry had told her what Severus' memories had held. Why he had suffered under the Dark Lord, under Dumbledore for so many years. Lily Potter.  _Lily Evans_. The woman who had his heart. Not his wife.

"It was worth it?"

His words rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her hand. "What was?"

"Your sacrifice." His arm tightened around her for a brief moment and her pulse surged. "Almost two years of your life. When you should've been exploring, experimenting… Instead you were bound to me."

A soft laugh broke from her. "You have met me, haven't you? The bushy-haired know-it-all. Not a girl –a woman— so much as a walking, breathing book." Ron's offer, disgusting as it was, flickered through her thoughts. "No one wanted to drag me into an alcove to…experiment and explore, Severus. I was always aware of that."

His hand tightened on her hip. "Idiots. Every last one of them."

"Thank you." She murmured the words against his throat, willing the courage to rise in her to kiss his scarred skin. She closed her eyes and breathed. His heart thudded against her palm and she fought back a delighted, satisfied smile.  _She'd_  made his pulse do that…not some phantom.

"I don't regret it, Severus." The movement of her lips brushed his skin. "You needed the potion books to extend Dumbledore's life. To stretch it out as far as you could. It was no sacrifice on my part. In fact," she bussed her mouth over first of the silvered puncture marks edging the line of his collar and his breath hitched, "you saved me from the selfish hormonal shit that is Ronald Weasley."

"I live to serve."

"Really?"

He looked down at her, his eyes dark, heavy and limned with gold. So beautiful… Her mouth dried, her heart a painful lump in her chest. Him. She wanted him. Was that why it was so easy to say yes to Dumbledore's plan? To have her heart in her mouth, as the old wizard bound them in the traditional ceremony with only Fawkes as their witness. To  _ache_  when Severus' lips had  _almost_  touched hers at the end of the rite. Almost. Before he remembered himself. And who  _she_  was.

Hermione had wanted him. Always. "I love you."

Severus stilled. Stopped breathing. "Hermione, you…"

The words had escaped her. What was she doing? He didn't want that from her. It was there in the way he looked, in the way he was glaring down at her.  _Fuck_.

"This is a retaliation against Weasley. I will not—"

She kissed him, pressing her lips against his to shut him up. Before he could stop her, she hitched up her gown and straddled him, her hands on his shoulders. Her mouth covered his again.

Severus wrenched himself free. "What…?"

Hermione nipped his bottom lip, tasting him, and finding a dark sweetness that twisted want low in her belly. She'd only kissed Ron…and she planned to self-obliviate herself, removing every single time. Only Severus' kisses would remain. "Severus..." She sighed against his mouth and his hands clutching her shoulders tightened. "I know now. I've only ever wanted you."

She teased his upper lips with her tongue, wanting him to reciprocate. "And whilst you really do taste delicious, one-sided kissing is not much fun."

"Hermione, you can't want this. Want me." He stared at her and something flickered in the depths of his obsidian eyes. Pain and fear…and hope.

That last emotion fired up her own faith. More truth escaped. "My heart…died with you that day."

He wiped away her tears with his thumb, his hand gentle on her cheek. He shushed her and pressed little butterfly kisses to her closed eyes. "Foolish girl," he murmured.

The insult –one he had often flung at her— was now an endearment. It made her grin and she turned her face to tease a kiss across his palm. "You are my husband." She lifted an eyebrow and a flare of amusement warmed his dark eyes. "And a wife has rights."

"Conjugal rights?" The question was low and smooth and his velvet baritone wrapped it in sin.

Her belly swooped, her pulse matching the sudden rush to her flesh. "Oh, yes. Yes, please."

His rich laughter forced a blush, but then he pulled her to him and she forgot everything else in the wild heat of his kiss. His long fingers tunnelled through her hair, holding her just right for his expert mouth. And it was. So very talented. As he nipped and tasted, as he deepened their kiss, his tongue teasing, flickering. Then deeper still. Her own fingers found his hair in the fierce clash of lips and tongues and teeth. An admittance of the need, the desire that had sparked between them. A claiming.

"Hermione…" He growled the word against her lips before he chased hot kisses over her throat. "I wanted you to live the life I'd denied you."

She teased her fingers through his hair, finding it deliciously smooth and soft and cool. "That life was…" She shuddered. "Hideous. Foul…"

"Detestable." He breathed the word against her kiss-dampened skin and her shiver had nothing to do with any thought of Ron Weasley. "Grotesque. Monstrous."

She exposed her neck to more of him. "Repulsive. Loathsome."

"Oh,  _loathsome_."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut at how Severus clothed the word in complete decadence. She arched into him, welcoming the slide of his large, clever hands over the silk of her gown. Her body ached for him. "Bestial."

His teeth nipped at the curve of her neck into her shoulder and an unexpected groan broke from her. "No, I will not allow…bestial." He laved her skin and another shiver ran through her. "Bestial is wild, untamed. It's you naked in my bed. Skin glowing in the firelight. That hair of yours unbound and free across my pillows."

A pulse beat hard in her belly and her fingers fisted his hair. "Gods, yes."

"I had to wait." His palms pressed a long line down her spread thighs, gliding back to tease patterns low against her spine. His mouth had slowed. He pressed hot little kisses to her bare shoulder, the slide of his skin and the cool slip of his hair chasing pleasure through her flesh. "Albus and I robbed you—"

"Severus…"

"We did. You were seventeen. Only hours into being an adult when the worst was asked of you." He drew back, his dark eyes shadowed. "You know if there had been any other way, I would have taken it."

Hermione cupped his face and pecked a kiss to his infamous nose. She let out a peeved little sigh. "Then I would not be here,  _very_  prepared for our  _much_   _delayed_  wedding night."

A wry smile pulled at his mouth. "I don't deserve you."

"No." A lump weighed heavy in her chest, her lips half-forming into a smile. "No, you don't. You deserve more. You deserve everything."

He drew a line over her trembling mouth, his gaze fixed there. "I promised myself, that if I lived, if your actions –and some miracle— kept me alive, then I would release you from this binding." He pressed his finger to her mouth, denying her voice. "I thought to consider us…friends. Good friends. But just that."

His gaze shifted over her face, as if memorising her. "You're young, talented, powerful and growing into a beauty that leaves me breathless. My conscience couldn't allow anything else but a dissolution." He lifted an eyebrow and the painful thuds of her heart stopped and her breath with them. "But…I am also Slytherin."

No words would come. Severus should be proud that he had finally made her speechless.

"I awoke seven days ago. Kingsley inadvertently alerted me to your involvement with the  _loathsome_  Weasley boy."

Hermione bit her lip to deny the little swell of unexpected pleasure at his repeat of that word. Only she –only  _they_ — could be turned on by playing thesaurus.

"A habit I must break you of again, I see," he murmured, teasing her bottom lip free of her teeth. "With positive reinforcement." He leaned forward. "Don't bite your lip, Hermione." The words were a hot whisper across her lips before he pulled her into the gentlest, most chaste of kisses.

She almost groaned, her hands gripping his shoulders as his lips continued to tease hers. "This may not work. I bite my lip. You kiss me. I can't lose."

He narrowed his eyes. "Then I will no longer kiss you…"

"And so deny yourself."

His mouth twitched. "I am used to denying myself many things."

She smirked at him. "You were saying you were Slytherin."

"I was. I am." He played with a long curl of hair escaping from their clips. His eyes were distant, thoughtful. "I knew that you would want your first time to be…special. That you would prepare." He glanced down at her little bag, transfigured to match her gown. "Contraceptive potion and virgin vial?"

She nodded, her face reddening. Guilt was an uneasy sourness in her belly. She had been so close to losing everything. If Ron had shown one ounce of thoughtfulness… She shuddered against the future she'd so narrowly avoided.

Severus watched her hair spring back. "I believed –correctly— that you would choose tonight. Therefore I created an enchantment. If you changed your mind, then you would find me here."

"At any point?"

He closed his eyes and gave a slow nod.

"Did you be-spell Ron?"

He held her gaze again. "Did I have to?"

She snorted. "No."

Severus pulled in a slow breath. "I should let you go. But I am selfish and greedy and do not like to share."

That was a declaration of want. Perhaps of more. Whatever it was, she knew one thing. It had been far too long –Merlin, it was stretching into  _minutes_ — since she'd kissed him. So she took his mouth.

Severus' surprised moan pushed her harder against him. She'd told Ron the truth. The man she picked that night would find her anything but cold.

Her own impatient fingers hitched higher the trapping skirt of her gown. She pressed forward, her bare thighs taunted my the rough rub of his trousers…and if she angled her hips…just so…

Light sparked before her eyes. There was only a little scrap of material between her and the rather magnificent bulge in Severus trousers. She grinned as she found  _that_  angle again.  _Frottage_. The word danced deliciously through her thoughts. And she couldn't resist murmuring it in Severus' ear before her teeth caught his earlobe.

He groaned and his mouth found her throat against. His breath came with searing whispers. Yes, only he could make synonyms hot. "Grinding.  _Kneading_."

"Gods, Severus…" Her brain was melting as he ran his tongue over her collarbone, dipping into the hollow and making her almost cry out. All higher reasoning simply vanished. "When…when did you know? When did you want me?" She wet her lips, her thoughts a tangled mess. "Love me."

His hands stilled on her hips and he looked up at her. His hair was sticking up and his lips swollen by their, by her kisses as his chest drew in quick air. His eyes shone with warmth and desire…and she fought not to attack him again. She wanted an answer. Needed it. The realisation that she loved him was so new to her. But it couldn't be to him.

His gaze softened and he cupped her cheek. "When I thought I'd had my last look at you." His chest lifted and Hermione's heart tightened. He hadn't denied it. Merlin's little apples. He  _loved_  her.

"I have many regrets." Pink tinted his cheeks and he looked to his hand at her hip. He flexed it against her before teasing slow, easing circles with his thumb. In the silence, the madness of their desire calmed. "No doubt Potter has shared what he saw in my memories…but those regrets…" He shook his head, his eyes distant before he focused on her again. "I faced my death regretting only two things. That I'd never once held you. And that I'd never kissed you."

Hermione's hug was fierce, her face buried against his neck. "I'm not letting you go."

"I'm afraid you must."

She reared back, startled, afraid that he'd suddenly reveal some insanity that meant they could never be together. "Severus…?"

"Look behind you."

Reluctantly, she turned her head, scared that if she took her eyes off him he would vanish. A wispy, silvered lynx patronus stared up at her. "That's…"

Kingsley's voice, deep and sure, filled the room.  _"You're to join us in the antechamber, Severus. It's time."_  The ghostly lynx spun, and with a swirl the magic dissipated.

"You're on the list to get an award?"

Severus smirked at her. "Perhaps."

Some of Hermione's joy withered. She pressed her hand to his chest, her thumb tracing over one of the ornate buttons on his frock coat. She couldn't meet his gaze. "Then if I had not run from Ron, you would have said nothing?"

"You were living your life." His voice was soft and lined with resignation. He lifted her chin. "I was aware of my feelings. I would not inflict them on you." His thumb traced her bottom lip. " _However_ ," and the heat infused in the single word jumped her pulse, "now that you  _wish_  them to be inflicted…"

Hermione pecked a kiss to his thumb. "Do I have to go the public route?"

She smiled at him. Their code. How they worked together, but were never  _seen_  together. Severus hadn't wanted to involve her in his spy work. Had never wanted to endanger her. But over the first few months, their lives had woven into a strange tapestry.

And in the long dark nights, when he was the despised Headmaster and she was living in a stinking tent, on the run and trying to work out Dumbledore's plan, they'd passed messages to each other via a set of her charmed galleons. The surety of knowing there was someone there, someone who knew her every secret, who knew her. It had kept her sane. She had some belief that she'd done the same for him.

"As always, wife."

She eased herself off his lap, pulled out her wand and flicked spells to repair her creased gown, tangled hair and smeared makeup. A twist of her wand applied the tidying spells to Severus.

He lifted a dark eyebrow. "I hope I am without make-up."

"That I would ruin such beautiful eyes or such perfect lips…" She grinned at his scowl. "You are as imposing as ever, Severus."

He stood and brought her hand to his mouth. He kissed her knuckles. And stilled. He looked up at her. His thumb traced over her finger. She was all too aware of what he'd found. Something that had had to remain invisible since he'd placed it there. "You're wearing your ring."

"It didn't feel right to take it off." And now she knew why. Her marriage bond was still very much intact. "Is yours…?"

"Yes." He twitched a smile. "The ceremony. And then you and I will have a long talk."

Hermione smirked at him. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Behave, Madam."

"How is that fun?"

He slid her a dark glance as he led her back to the little office with its stacks of paper and books. "I see I will have to take you in hand."

The dark and velvet promise in his words pulsed need low in her belly. And with the golden light of the fire and the desire warming his gaze, she wanted to throw herself at him. Again. Her smile was wicked. "I look forward to it."

"As do I." He dipped his mouth to hers, a light kiss, sweet and chaste. "Kingsley is beyond that door. Go with him."

She could still taste him, but her fear rose again, making her palms sweat. "This is all real, isn't it? I'm not passed out on the floor, dreaming you or this?"

"There is no way for me to answer that." He tucked an errant curl behind her ear. "I will see you again in a few minutes, Hermione. I promise. Now go."

The door swung open and before she could change her mind, she stepped back into the ballroom. She winced. Wizards and witches crammed every space, the noise after the silence of the little office smashing over her.

"Hermione, there you are." Kingsley stood before her. He frowned. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She gave him a bright smile. "It's so busy here tonight, isn't it?"

"We couldn't find you at all. Ron said you'd gone home."

"Ron says a lot of things." She twitched him another smile. She would put forward –most— of the truth before it became twisted. "We broke up, just now. I needed a moment."

Kingsley cupped her shoulder with his large hand, warmth bleeding through the thin material of the capped sleeve. It eased the strain in her chest and her next smile was relaxed, genuine. "We're starting the awards ceremony now. Best to get it over with." He pressed her hand into the crook of his arm and wizards and witches melted away from the tall man. More than one murmuring, "Good evening, Minister."

Hermione's cheeks were hot from the attention drifting over her on its way to Kingsley and back again. A flash burst to her left and she frowned. A photograph that would no doubt grace the front of the  _Prophet_ , with something about her scandalous affair with the Minister splashed beneath it.

"Don't worry, Hermione. Before the night is through, our 'affair' will be an afterthought on page twenty."

She snorted, though it was embarrassing that he knew how the press would treat her. "We can only hope." Though if Severus was revealed  _and_  their marriage? She held back a sigh. She'd fill the whole bloody paper.

The crush continued to ease away until they reached the podium and stage. It was still empty, though magical wards bristled at the platform's edges. It was heavy security, considering that all the Death Eaters where gone. She supposed Voldemort's supporters –those not in the Inner Circle and so not caught up in the curse of the Dark Mark— could still pose a threat.

Kingsley nodded to two aurors who stood either side of a narrow door to the right of the stage. "Keep a firm grip on me," he murmured, before he plunged through the solid oak.

Hermione caught her breath, the strange sensation of passing through solid matter –the same as the brick wall at King's Cross— sweeping through her flesh and bone. She burst onto the other side and a deep shiver wracked her.

The room was big and brightly lit, tall, night-dark windows looking out onto the Houses of Parliament and the gleaming faces of Big Ben. People stood in small clusters. She recognised most of the Order of the Phoenix and those from Dumbledore's Army. Severus was nowhere to be seen and for a heart-stopping moment, she thought it had all been a dream, a fantasy brought to torment her. Her heart drummed and she fought down a rush of panic… But, no. There.

There he was. A cool, dark shadow in the doorway, impossibly straight, imposing…and yes, there was that repeated need to fling herself at him burning in her limbs.

Molly Weasley's scream sliced through Hermione's blissed moment. A second later, the witch's wand was out, a flash of magic surging across the room. At her alarm, others reacted. An almost fire of magic lanced the air.

All aimed towards her unarmed husband.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Hermione reacted without thought, a wandless  _protego_  wrapping around Severus, even as his own wand snapped into his hand and he deflected Mrs Weasley's hasty casting. Damn the bloody woman, she'd been letting her wand fly over the slightest things. Another flick of his wand and the second fiery wave dissipated. And everyone else had followed the wand-happy witch, the war still thick in their nerves.

Hermione let out a heavy breath and pressed her fist over her chest. Her heart still hammered. Of course he was fine. He was Severus Snape. But the flare of magic, twisting, writhing, attacking him… It was that thrice-damned snake all over again.

"Is that my welcome?" Severus tucked his wand back into his sleeve, his wry and bitter smile cutting his harsh face. "I should've stayed dead."

Silence. Utter silence as everyone simply stared.

"You're alive." The disbelieving whisper came from Harry. He pulled away from Ginny and Ron and almost staggered towards his former professor. He stopped a few feet away. "Sir…" A wild laugh broke from the Boy-Who-Lived. "Where do I even  _start_?"

"You could start with a drink?"

Harry beamed at him. "Yes, a good place. I think I need one too. Maybe five."

Severus snorted. He strode forward and took Harry's hand. "Well done, Mr Potter."

Harry stared at his hand in Severus', his face burning red. He was grinning fit to burst. Hermione knew that viewing the memories Severus had given him, the proof for everyone else, that he was on the side of the Light, had eaten away at her friend. In their youth, they had all treated their Potions Professor abominably. And Harry regretted the fact that he could never make it right with the man who had done so much in his mother's name. Now he had his longed-for chance.

"Who is he, and what's he done with Severus Snape?"

Ron's sneering whisper cut across Hermione's joy. She glared at him as other members of the order and a few brave souls from the DA surrounded the returning former professor. "Shut up, Ron."

Red splotched Ron's face. His hands flexed, curling into fists. "I thought you left."

She lifted her chin. "Why would I?" She gave her bag a sharp little pat. "I plan to get  _very_  lucky tonight."

"He's  _here_?" Ron practically spluttered the question. "DA or Order?"

Hermione gave him what she hoped was a secret smile. After all, she'd never exactly been a  _femme fatale_. She was far too obvious and blunt. "Guess."

She saw an opening in the crowd and pushed forward to get to Severus. She fully intended to be a  _very_  clingy wife. "Professor." She was almost breathless as she stood before him in the squeeze of people. She stuck out her hand. "It's good to see you."

His hand clasped hers, his thumb drawing slow, sensual circles against her palm. He leaned in and his scent caught her and she completely forgot how to breathe. Her face flushed, which drew a dark smile from him. "I'm no longer your professor, Miss Granger."

"No, sir."

"Your drink, Professor." Harry pushed forward a large amber glass of smoking firewhiskey.

"As I said to Miss Granger, I'm no longer your professor."

Harry grinned at him, almost humming with excitement. "So first names…Severus."

"Perhaps, Harry." He took a sip of his whiskey, his eyes dark and wanton as they fixed on her over his glass. " _Hermione._ "

"How…how long is the ceremony?" she asked no one in particular, mainly to hide the fluster his wicked voice wrought in her flesh, and because she wanted him to herself. Naked. In a very large bed.

"The awards will begin shortly." Kingsley began to usher the crowd towards a set of doors, which likely led up to the stage. The crowd thinned around Severus, but Hermione was not leaving him.

She caught Kingsley's frown. Was he worried that Severus planned to seduce her? That he would overwhelm her into agreeing? People did seem to forget that she wasn't some cowering little girl. That she was quite a powerful witch, often outspoken and often blunt in going after what she wanted. Anyone who tried to stop her from getting Severus Snape  _exactly_  where she needed him that night would find themselves at the end of her wand. Or fist. Or possibly both.

"Severus…" Hermione watched Harry toddle off after Ginny and linked her arm through Severus'. He smirked down at her as he vanished his drink. "I find myself companionless."

His large hand covered hers. "Do you, indeed?"

" _Him?_ "

Ron's voice cut through their hot little moment and Hermione almost growled. She glared it him, her lips pursed and aware that her hair was unravelling with sparks. "Yes."

"So you plan to fuck the Greasy Dungeon Bat to get back at me?" Ron snorted, his gaze sliding over Severus with contempt. "Good luck with getting anything to satisfy your  _needs_  from him."

A choked squeak followed. Severus' wand pressed into Ron's throat, digging under his jaw, pushing the younger wizard up onto his toes as he tried to evade the obvious pain. "Just because the war is over. Just because Tom Riddle is dead." He twisted the tip of his wand and blood leaked. "Don't think for one moment that I am not the man I was. The consummate Slytherin. Death Eater. Killer. I could skin you in the blink of an eye. And if you ever,  _ever_ , talk to my wife in such a way again, I will visit pain upon you unlike any you have ever known."

Ron staggered back. " _Wife?_ "

Hermione's heart drummed, fear and arousal thick in her veins. Her hand clutched his arm, her thoughts wild. That –display— shouldn't turn her on. It shouldn't. She fought to control her breathing and her mind levelled. She stared at Ron. " _That's_  all you took from what he said?"

Ron wiped his hand across his jaw, whimpering at the smear of blood on his palm. "Mental. Both of you." He staggered off, leaving them in an empty room.

Severus let out a long breath. "I'm sorry. How he has treated you…" He winced. "I got carried away."

"You were hot." Hermione pressed her lips together, too aware of the warmth in her face. Why did the most embarrassing truths keep bursting out from her? "I know, I know I shouldn't find it…arousing." She groaned. "Why am I saying this? Bury me in a deep, dark hole right now."

He tilted her chin up, his eyes endless, riveting. "There's nothing wrong with wanting a little darkness in your life."

"No, no there isn't." She pulled herself together, grinned up at him and tugged him towards the door. "And I would happily whisk you away to explore –in detail— all of that darkness, but I want to see you get your Order of Merlin. And I want to hear the wizarding world gasp and grovel."

"Are you sure you're not Slytherin, Mrs Snape?"

"You found me out." Hermione laughed as she pushed open the door and the heat and noise of the main ballroom rushed them. "Where better for a sneaky Slytherin to hide than under the brassy glare of a Gryffindor?"

Silence. A vast silence broke into their banter. A heartbeat later, camera bulbs flashed in an almost blinding array.

Kingsley  _sonorous_ -amplified voice filled the room to the rafters. "And finally, Miss Hermione Granger and Professor Severus Snape."

Still the deadening silence. Witches and wizards simply…gawped. Hermione knew her face was red, could feel the heat of it burning her cheeks, but Severus was calm, cool. The man had faced down Voldemort for years. A stunned crowd was nothing. He ushered her to her seat, waiting for her to take it before he found his own, next to her.

"As you see, the rumours of Professor Snape's death have been greatly exaggerated." Kingsley grinned as Minerva snorted.

The older witch leant forward, her hand pressing against Severus' shoulder. "You always did have the power to petrify, Severus, but I think this is taking things a little too far."

Severus laughed. "I'm sure they'll recover." He frowned at the crowd, still nervously silent. "Eventually."

The awards ceremony moved on, Kingsley driving it forward. Yes, he would definitely be a much more hands-on-to-get-it-done Minister. Hermione approved. Cameras flashed and journalists called out questions as the Orders of Merlin were handed out like sweets. Hermione simply gave a tight smile to the white flare of lights and ignored Rita Skeeter's sugar-thickened voice as she accepted her medal from Kingsley.

It was a relief to sit next to Severus again and for a delicious moment, his hand gripped hers, warm and strong. Harry took his medal to a wild roar, his wand casting a sonorous to begin his brief speech. She leant into Severus, her voice just above a whisper. "They'll expect that from you too."

"A speech? I don't think so." His mouth thinned and she wanted to kiss him to ease the pressure, the anger tightening his muscles. "The best they'd get from me is a hex."

"Who are you maintaining  _this_  Severus Snape for?"

He looked at her, a line forming between his eyes and she didn't fight the urge to smooth it away with her finger. "You are  _free_ , Severus," she murmured. She gave him a wicked little smile. "Well almost."

"I would never choose to be free of you." His dark gaze held her and the rest of the room fell away to silence. "Wife."

Her stomach did a little flip and she pressed her tongue to her teeth to deny the quick burn of tears. She mouthed the word "Husband" to Severus' back. Kingsley had called him forward, the last to receive his medal.

Severus' long fingers closed around the velvet-wrapped box the Minister handed to him, even as he bowed to let the long, black ribbon slip over his head. He glanced back to her, and his medal shone a vivid silver against his chest.

Joy suffused her, her heart tight, her grin hurting her cheeks and she began the clapping. Harry followed. Soon, the whole stage followed. She thought Hagrid started the boot stomping that shook the entire platform. She happily joined in that too.

"Silence!"

Severus' voice, touched by magic, burst across the ballroom. A cool smile lifted his mouth, before it faded. "We have lost many. So many. And in this silence, we will remember them."

He bowed his head, others following. Hermione closed her eyes, the memory of faces, of voices, of those lost to her churning through her mind. Of Sirius and Lupin and Tonks. Little Colin Creevey to Dumbledore. And even Lucius Malfoy.

"We must also be thankful."

Severus rich voice warmed through her and she opened her eyes, her gaze sliding over the length of his body in its rich, familiar black. Her emotions were on a see-saw, the night almost a dream from which she didn't want to wake. Severus was alive and was hers. Totally hers. Wanted  _her_. Her fingers tightened around the velvet box she held, not fighting the strain in her fingers. It was a dream she'd happily stay in for the rest of her life.

"Tom Riddle is dead. Cindered, with his ashes pushed beyond the veil. He will  _never_  return." The satisfaction in his voice prickled her skin. "His rise and his failure were bound by the same fault." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and his voice grew soft. "Get Albus Dumbledore merry on elf-wine and he would wax poetic about the lack of love in Riddle's life. He was caught in a great circle, he'd say, and forced to repeat it. Born from false-love, Riddle couldn't understand love and so love would be his downfall."

Severus lifted his shoulders. "Love has me standing here today."

Hermione's heart missed a beat and she ignored the whispers around her of Lily Potter. A ghost hadn't been there through his darkest time, hadn't pressed her fingers to his throat as his blood poured from his body. Hermione drew in a tightened breath. She didn't doubt her jealousy would rumble on for a while yet, but it was hers to control. And she would. She didn't  _have_  to compete with a ghost.

She blinked as she became aware of Severus looking back at her, his hand stretched out. How long had he been standing that way? His lips pushed into a smile and she stumbled to her feet, her fingers slipping into his.

"Hermione Granger was instrumental to my work as the war ended. Without her I would not be here."

He lifted her hand to his mouth, his lips brushing her ring, the whisper of a spell dissolving its invisibility.

Hermione fought the sudden surge of panic. Her ring was private, a secret she'd held for years. "What are you doing?" Her voice was little more than a low squeak.

His dark eyes held her and his deep voice was equally low. "War hero, Order of Merlin, First Class, with the large monetary award that brings, powerful and brilliant? Before another wizard thinks he can snatch you away, I am publically staking my claim, Mrs Snape."

"Every one of those points applies to you too. No other wizard is having you. And definitely no other witch." She took his left hand and quickly pressed her lips to the warm metal hidden on his finger.

"Wedding rings?" Molly's words came out in a half screech. "You're  _married_? To  _him_?"

Hermione smirked as the camera bulbs flashed again, white and blinding. But in a fixed moment —a captured second in time— she had the distinct pleasure of seeing Rita Skeeter faint. In fact, she grinned as no one stopped the witch's fall and her head impacted the hard stone floor with a satisfying crack.

* * *

Hermione wanted a clock to glare at, because her constant casting of the tempus charm was starting to look suspicious. If not slightly obsessive.

The award ceremony had ended in chaos.

Molly's screams, as she cast aspersions on Severus and herself. She was a harlot for leading on her poor innocent Ron… Hermione had drawn in a calming breath, glad to have her husband's hand tight around hers, to stop her before she unleashed facts about 'innocent' Ron on his foaming mother. Arguments broke out amongst Order members and the DA, with Ginny eyeing their locked hands with what Hermione disturbingly recognised as  _sexual_  interest.

She shuddered and stopped herself from casting the time again. It was mere seconds since the numbers glowed before her face, stating the unwelcome fact that it had only been an hour since Kingsley had brought calm to the proceedings. An hour in which they had to mingle amongst the still slightly stunned crowd of witches and wizards. Her only consolation was flickering a little wave to Rita Skeeter as she was carted off to St Mungo's. However, that pleasure had worn off.

She'd been parted from Severus almost instantly. Everyone knew his story, thanks to ministerial leaks…and now they wanted to be seen –and  _seen_  to be seen— with one of suddenly the most important and influential men in wizarding Britain.

"You never told me. Gave no hint."

Harry wrapped a  _muffiliato_  around them and screened it with a notice-me-not charm. He tilted his head and Hermione unwillingly met his gaze. There were the remnants of anger and hurt in his green eyes. Yes, if there was one thing Harry Potter hated, it was not being let in on every secret she –or anyone else— had.

"It was not something to shout about. For either of us." She shrugged. "You know now." She gave a half smile as she caught sight of Severus tall and severe in the clutches of a coven of eager witches. " _Everyone_  knows now."

"So you always knew he was on the side of the Light."

Another statement, this time with a hardened edge to it. Hermione sidestepped. "We bonded to extend Dumbledore's life. And no one could know. It would've meant his instant death. So, no, I planned to tell no one."

"The war ended months ago…"

Hermione pushed down the urge to shout at him. Her nerves were stretched and there was a voluptuous, blonde witch with glamoured breasts pressing herself up against  _her_  husband. "I did not want my secret shared –spoiled— as Severus' was." She rubbed her thumb against the warmth of her wedding ring. The gold turned against her skin and she smiled at it. It was so strange finally to see it on her finger. "No one knew us."

"Hermione, you know how he felt,  _feels_ , about my mother." Harry huffed out a frustrated breath. "I'm worried for you. You married for convenience. You said so yourself. And well, its  _Snape_."

She shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her month. "That's your whole argument? It's  _Snape_."

"It used to be enough."

Harry was being a hypocrite. He had opined about Severus' bravery since they thought him dead. But that was only when that courage was displayed because of Severus' devotion and love for  _his_  mother. Was Harry claiming Severus years of service for himself? And now that Hermione had broken that single-minded dedication was her friend…annoyed?

"For you maybe. And definitely for Ron."

"And what about him? If you were meant for Snape, why lead  _him_  on?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. Friend or not, he was close to crossing the line. "I found out Severus was alive only minutes before you did." She ignored his frown at the use of her husband's first name. "I was trying to move on. Though Ron –and his  _teenage boy_   _needs_ — put an end to anything even before I knew." She let out a long breath. "And that is all you're getting from me, Harry. I'm calling an end to this night before we fall out."

"Hermione…"

She broke through his spells, the noise of the ballroom smacking into her. She didn't look back. Her sights were set on the tall darkness of her husband trapped in the centre of a glittering nest of harpies.

"Severus."

His dark eyes snapped to hers and his quickly masked rush of relief almost had her smiling.

She held out her hand. "We have a…prior engagement."

"We do," he murmured, his hand closing over hers as he extricated himself from the mass of adoring witches. "Thank you." It was whispered against the shell of her ear and she shivered. "I was about to resort to stinging hexes to inhibit their wandering hands."

"And this, after you just announced your marriage?"

"They believe," he drew her to him, his loose curtain of hair almost shielding her face as his mouth dipped to hers, "that you could not possibly satisfy me."

The low timbre of his voice and the fraction of air separating their lips drove her pulse wild. Her mouth dried and she wanted nothing more than for him to kiss her again. This time, in front of everyone. A proper kiss. She wanted her claim seen. "And what do you think?"

"I  _think_ , Mrs Snape, that as ravishing as you look in that dress, I want you out of it." His mouth ghosted across hers, the heat of his skin, his breath taunting her. "I want to explore every inch of you. Lick and nibble and  _bite_." His teeth took her lip and she drew in a sharp breath, clutching his arms to keep herself upright on her impractical shoes. "Are you in agreement?"

"I am indeed, husband."

With an obnoxiously loud crack, they vanished.

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

Her feet hit a carpeted floor and Hermione stumbled. Severus' strong hands tightened on her hips, steadying her as she pushed down the quick rise of nausea.

"And that was  _loud_."

He smirked at her, his face caught in a shaft of moonlight. "Satisfyingly so."

Her heart beat hard. She'd been aching for a moment alone with him since she left his library…but now she was truly alone. No pressure to attend the ceremony. No threat of predatory witches. Just them. Alone in a dark-panelled bedroom. And her inexperience tightened the nerves in her stomach.

Severus mouth lifted in a wry, one-sided smile. "There's no rush, Hermione."

Warmth ran through her, smoothing away her fears. He'd always read her so easily. No one knew her as he did. Another void in her life refilled. She teased her fingers over the buttons of his coat, tracing the half-hints of coiled serpents wrought into jet. "I've waited a long time for you. What sort of Gryffindor would I be if I ran from you now?"

Severus' hand covered hers and the simple brush of skin against skin dried her mouth. His dark eyes, edged with silver, narrowed on her and a delicious little shiver coursed her flesh. "You would be a  _sensible_  Gryffindor."

 _Playing with darkness_. The thought whirled through her mind. Had that always been his attraction? Yes, he was noble and loyal and brave…but there was also that other thread. The weaving of wickedness through his soul. "Isn't that an oxymoron?"

His thumb teased her bottom lip, his gaze fixed there. "Do you know why I never brought you here?"

Hermione blinked at his non-sequitur. "I was your wife in name only." The old pain of that flared around her heart. It was why she had never attempted to claim anything from his estate when she thought him…gone. Even though she'd ached to own something of his. A button from his coat. Anything. "I had no right to be here."

His lips brushed her mouth, a slow, ghosting touch that caught her breath and vanished the pain that had clouded her summer. "Prince House has always had a certain…reputation." He drew back and Hermione almost sighed at the loss. "Look at my bed, Hermione."

Moonlight carved out a vast four-poster bed, with great, wrought posts and a huge, draped canopy. Severus was a tall man. Was he following his ancestors? But that didn't explain the fact that a roomy four could probably fit across the mattress. "That's a…wide bed.

"It needed to be. They worked warming charms, but my ancestors still used to hire little witches to heat up their beds."

Hermione lifted an eyebrow. "No wizards?"

Severus smirked at her. "That would be in the room through that door behind you." He waved his fingers and the first layer of charms loosened in her hair. It fell in a warm rush around her shoulders and down her back. "There is a room for  _every_  taste at Prince House."

"Your ancestors were debauched." She took a step closer, her finger finding another ornately carved button on his frock coat. She could never explain her fascination with them… " _Depraved._ "

"Degenerates." He let out a soft sigh and she knew he wouldn't continue with that little word game. "To a witch and wizard. I couldn't bring you here. Not if you were to leave whole and untouched."

His enchantment. The one he had created to catch her if she walked away from Ron. It wasn't simply to give her a place of safety from an odious boy. It proved that she must also want him. She pressed her lips together. She could happily go back in time and slap Lily Evans. Severus put up so many wards to protect himself, to protect his easily broken heart. It was time for her to show just how much she  _did_  want him.

Hermione tilted her head. "So…how degenerate?"

"Does my innocent little wife want tales of lewdness to heat her blood?"

His rich voice in the cool darkness, the trail of his fingertips against her bared shoulder, tracing a slow,  _slow_  path over the rise of her breasts spun Hermione's thoughts. She fought to breathe. To stay standing as her knees threatened to buckle.

"Yes…"

His soft laughter ran hot in her blood. "Silvanos Prince." Severus' mouth dipped to her neck, his breath searing her skin, forcing a gasp. "His parties were infamous. No woman was safe." Sure hands slipped over the silk of her gown, every touch urging her closer, more firmly against his lean body. His lips pressed against the shell of her ear, his voice dark and hot. "One night, at the great table, he stripped the Minister bare. She protested, fought. But Silvanos was a brilliant duellist. Once disarmed, she was  _his_."

Hermione sucked in a tight breath, denying the growing throb low in her belly. Wrong, this was wrong. "Why did she come to his house? She had to have known…"

"Perhaps she too craved darkness. She…favoured Silvanos." He drew in a breath, releasing it as a slow sigh. "Now, where was I?"

The low, rich timbre to his voice rioted through Hermione. Impossibly seductive. But no magic lined it. It was all him. "Silvanos bent her over the table for all to see. Bare. Everything about her exposed."

Severus paused and the image of herself transposed the faceless witch, stretched out over an ornate table. And Severus, Severus was behind her, tall and dark on the edge of her vision, with his hand low on her naked spine, long fingers teasing and stroking.

Fire chased along Hermione's veins and a soft moan escaped her as those fingers in delicious reality caressed slow patterns down her back.

What was happening to her? If Ron had said something like this, she'd have planted a fist in his face. But Severus, with his voice dipped in sin, played with her mind, teased her body. And she wanted more.

"You're there, aren't you, wife?"

"I shouldn't…"

His lips ghosted her ear, his quickened breaths echoing Hermione's pulse. "Just a little darkness." His hand drew down to her backside and he squeezed, shifted, until his hard thigh was between her legs. "To enhance your pleasure…"

Light sparked under her eyelids as he held her against him. Right, just  _right_.

"Should I continue?"

"Yes…" Hermione had no idea what she was agreeing to. She simply needed more of him.

"Silvanos delighted in her pleasured moans. And offered his guests the chance to lick and stroke and bite her. And they did, fingers and mouths grabbing and tasting as Silvanos continued to fuck her.  _Hard_."

Hermione clutched at his arms, surprised at the raw hunger that swept through her. The imagery or his depraved words, she didn't know what it was, but it caught in her tight flesh. "Would you ever…?"

"I. Do not. Share." Severus growled the vow against her skin and light flickered before eyes, a groan breaking from her. He ground against her, his fingers biting in his hold. "I will  _never_  share."

Heat tore through her flesh and she let out a soft cry. Her head fell to his chest, and she fought to breathe, to think. What…? Had she just climaxed? And practically by his voice alone?

Severus pressed a kiss to her hair. "Naughty little witch."

"There's an enchantment on the House?" Heat burned in Hermione's cheeks. That had to explain her reaction to him, to the story he'd woven around her. It wasn't her…

"Perhaps." He lifted her chin and stroked his fingers across her hot cheek. "Something in the wards. An ancient magic to enfold those who would try to harm us into desiring us instead. Or," his voice dropped lower and a fresh twist of want coiled in her belly, "there is something in the Prince blood that —when focused— is simply…irresistible."

"That…" Hermione wet dried lips. "Absolutely, that."

"And nothing to do with a certain young witch's own dark desires."

More heat flooded her and she pushed down the embarrassment. "Perhaps…"

Severus huffed a soft laugh and drew in a deep breath, before releasing it. "You are curious. And passionate. Two excellent qualities with which to…explore."

"That was my first." She willed herself to meet his dark gaze. Moonlight caught on the twist of his sensuous mouth. She pressed her lips together. She'd spent a year with him talking only through a gold coin, spilling all her fears and hopes. There was very little this man didn't know about her. Though their time had always been more…cerebral. "I never had the time before…and lately neither the desire nor the inclination."

"Never?"

The question burned. Behind it were others, unsaid. Ron had never touched her in that way. The thought of him blundering about her body had often made her wince. That alone should've alerted her. She put her reluctance to everything about him down to her own inexperience…but she had only been living a half-life. Hardly thinking or feeling. Her emotions had been buried, too painful to pull to the surface.

"Never."

Severus cupped her cheek, before his lips brushed hers. "I do not deserve you."

Her heart lifted and she couldn't help her smile. "You deserve so much more."

"We will agree to disagree." He lifted an eyebrow. "Should I share another licentious tale?"

"You favour L words."

"Do I?" His mouth touched hers, the heat of his breath scorching her. "There are other words. Such as lascivious, or libidinous, or  _lechery_ …" He smirked and she couldn't help but echo him. "And yet more. Lust. Or like. Or love."

Her heart squeezed and she drew in a choked breath. "Make love to me, Severus. Finally.  _Please_?"

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay... Sorry for the lengthy absence. February turned out to be a non-writing month, not for the want of trying... *sigh*
> 
> *sounds smut warning alarm*
> 
> Oh and chapter 6 will follow on fairly quickly after this one. It just needs a bit of tidying. Enjoy.

* * *

 

Hermione stroked her slow fingers down the carved and so-tempting buttons of his frock coat, her nerves strained, her belly a twisting mess of heat and tension.

They stood before his bed, still dressed, the slow crawl of time eating away at her. He was waiting for her, she knew that. But her inexperience was smothering her Gryffindor bravado. She wanted this to be  _right_. Perfect.

Severus covered her hand. "Is it me or my buttons you desire?"

A smile tugged at her mouth. "I'm still undecided."

His eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to a low, sultry drawl. "Should I strip you naked and wrap you in it? Leave you alone on my bed with my buttons and your busy little fingers?"

Her breath hitched and her fingers clenched, fisting the buttons and surrounding fabric. A heavy pull between her thighs, an ache, caught her by surprise. The thought, the image of the soft wool enveloping her bare skin, warmed and scented by his body… A moan escaped her.

Severus' laughter flushed heat to her face. "I see I am easily replaced."

"No." Her denial burst from her, the fear and pain from the empty summer catching her. She pressed herself against him, rising up on her toes to brush her mouth against his. Wanting heat and breath and  _life_. "Never."

He stroked her cheek before threading his fingers through her unbound hair. "A future pleasure," he murmured. "But for now, only I will touch your skin."

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, her heart tight, the need searing her flesh almost too much as he eased her gown from her shoulders. Brief panic cut through her rising bliss. Her scars… But Severus knew of the curse that had rent her chest. Had treated it himself till it was little more than a thin, silvered line. The other scar though. A knot twisted in her stomach. She'd never shared that with him, not the detail of it. She was too aware of the pain that particular word had always caused him. "Severus?"

His hands stilled on her arms, in teasing down the long, silk sleeves. Dark eyes held her, warm, wanting and some of her fear eased.

"Bellatrix caught us, cursed me, cut me." She pressed her lips together. "Carved a word into my arm."

For a brief moment, he closed his eyes. Had he guessed? Or were her thoughts so plain, he could pick them from the air? When he looked at her again, the pain in his eyes almost broke her. "Hermione…"

"I survived. I survived it and her."

He didn't reply. Instead, he continued to draw down the covering silk and from the sudden tension in his frame and the thinned line of his mouth, Hermione knew the second his eyes connected with her scar. His thumb traced over it, a slow slide that raised goosebumps against her skin.

"You should have told me." There was no edge to his voice, no anger.

"It was already done. And I know…I know how much this word hurts you."

He wrapped her up in his arms, the smooth wool of his sleeves warm against her bared back. He buried his face in her loose hair. "That she cut it into you." He pulled in a long breath, the pressure of words unsaid there in his chest.

She'd had months with the hideous thing and had compared it in some ways to Severus living with his Dark Mark. Hers wasn't as vile…but it had become a part of her. It simply…was.

She tightened her arms around him and he groaned. "I believe we had more things on our mind than a very dead witch." She pressed her chin into his chest, smirking up at him, wanting to break the melancholy that had swept around them. "I'm half-naked." She lifted an eyebrow. "Well?"

His returned smile was wicked and her pulse kicked. "That simply will not do." With a murmured spell and a strange rush of magic over her flesh, Hermione watched all of her clothes hare off to the other side of the room. She squeaked, stumbling as her shoes joined them. "Fully naked."

She glared at him. "That's hardly fair."

Severus snorted. "Could you be parted from my buttons?"

Hermione teased her index finger in a sinuous line down his chest, weaving around his infamous buttons. "For a short time. A very  _little_  while."

"Wench," he murmured and she grinned at him as he drew her towards his vast bed. Silently, wandlessly, he drew back the covers and a shimmer of heat rippled across the exposed sheets. "Now, madam, if you can part  _me_  from my clothes?"

He presented himself, arms out and Hermione swallowed. Her fingers trembled. At least the warming charm on the bed offered some heat to her bare skin. Skin that Severus was fixed on, his moon-lit eyes sharp and hot.

Hermione pushed through one button after another, her fingertips tracing over the ornate serpent carved into the smooth jet. With each shaking slip, she exposed the gleaming white of his shirt, the heat of his skin almost burning her.

Severus' chest rose and fell, the strain there under her hesitant touch. A few more fast heartbeats and she stroked over the warmth of his flat stomach. His breath hitched. "There is a spell that undoes them."

"I like spending time with your buttons."

Severus growled, causing her to smile. "I did not expect to find three of us in this marriage."

"More than three, Severus. So many I've lost count." She grinned up at him, but faltered as she brushed against the placket of his trousers. The solid line of his erection moved against her fingertips. Real. Hot, even through heavy layers. And big. So much bigger than Ron.

Severus caught her trembling hand. "I can finish…"

Hermione found herself sitting on the warm bed and staring at Severus as his more deft fingers finished the last buttons on his coat. The slow teasing away of clothes held her. This was happening. And he was taunting her. The first reveal of his chest, alabaster skin almost ethereal in the moonlight, forced her to twist the sheet she held to her own chest. Damn the man.

There was something almost indecent about seeing him…unbuttoned. Something forbidden. Her heart was in her throat, her pulse thudding so hard it was difficult to think. "Please, Severus…"

She didn't know what she was begging for. An end to his teasing? For him to press every inch of his delicious skin against her own? For him to satisfy her craving for him?

"What, witch?" He stretched out his hand and her bag flew across the room. He offered it with the hint of a smile. "You know what you need to find."

She'd forgotten, completely forgotten about the two vials she'd set out with that night. Severus Snape was making a happy mush of her much vaunted brain. Her arm disappeared into her bad, searching for the contraceptive potion first. She pulled it free and it gleamed a soft gold in the shadows of the room.

"Did you brew it yourself?"

She glanced up, her words stolen at the sight of a practically naked Severus Snape. Her mouth opened. And closed. Silvered light gilded the lean musculature of his body. For a man who'd only been conscious for a week, whom she had thought  _dead_  four months before, he was simply…luscious.

"You approve?"

Humour lined his voice and Hermione's blush deepened. With a groan, she pressed her palm to her cheek. She was on  _fire_. She wet her dried lips. "Completely." She held up her vial. "And yes, fresh this morning." She ended the spell that sealed the shining liquid. And paused. She bit her lip, the sudden rush of guilt wrenching at the thought that she'd brewed it with another man in mind.

Severus' stood between her sheet-wrapped legs and closed a hand around hers. "You had doubts?"

She blinked. About him? Never.  _Had._ No, it wasn't a question about him, but about Ron. She nodded and willed herself to meet his gaze. She found no censure.

"You brewed this potion with  _him_  in mind." The corner of his mouth ticked upwards. "You had doubts. Your intent, your magic blended into the mix. I have no doubt, Hermione, that you have brewed the strongest contraceptive potion the wizarding world has ever known."

She snorted, but still the sourness lingered.

"You are in my bed. Not his." He stroked her cheek, a slow caress and she leant into his touch. "I have no other worries."

Hermione knocked back the potion, hissing at the acrid taste. He was right. It was unbelievably strong.

"Now your virgin vial."

Another search in her bag recovered the slender glass vial. Severus traced a line over the etched surface, finding the runes and sparking their magic. "The honour you do me," he murmured. He placed the vial on a high bedside table, where its magic suspended it. A faint glow lit it from within. Severus lifted an imperious eyebrow. "Shall we?"

Hermione's pulse pounded. Severus' long fingers drew back the warm sheet and exposed her to his hot gaze.

"Where should I start, wife?"

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second post of the day...
> 
> And the smut warning is still in force.

* * *

 

His body burned against hers. Chased heat and want and need under her skin, through her flesh. Hermione crushed her eyes shut, trying to contain the rush of feelings, of emotion that bombarded her. She was here. In his bed. Naked. His shadowy form just  _there_.

He'd pushed her back into his bed and wrapped himself around her with a sigh that seemed to come from some dark depth. She'd found the same satisfaction. Skin against skin. For a long moment, it was the only thing she, they needed.

She fought to open her eyes and looked at him, held his dark gaze mere inches from her own. The length of his body stretched out against hers. A tangle of legs, the press of hips, stomachs, her breasts firm against the solid breadth of his chest. And his dick, a length of hot steel against her belly. Her nerves twisted and wrenched. Was she ready?

"Severus…"

"I would keep you in this bed." His smooth voice was a whisper in the darkness. "Hold you here with nothing but pleasure."

She pressed a nervous kiss to his throat. She wanted him. Wanted this. So close to him, her mind was blanking and all that she could think to say was something inane. "That could get impractical."

He nuzzled her neck and she squeaked at the sudden surge of pleasure that skittered down to her core. "Don't care."

Her fingers threaded through his silky hair, tilting her neck to expose more of her skin to his searching mouth. "Eventually I'd start to chafe."

His body shook with laughter and he pulled her more tightly to him. "I know a few helpful spells. I  _am_  a wizard."

Hermione giggled and pressed a kiss somewhere between his jaw and his ear. The tension at their initial touch had broken under her silliness. She pushed out a long breath and enjoyed the press of her body against his. She  _needed_  this. Him.

He met her gaze, a long finger brushing away a strand of hair. "Would a tale from this House ease you?"

"Not ease, exactly."

Severus lifted an eyebrow. "Distract your thoughts whilst your husband has his wicked way with you?"

She caught her tongue between her teeth to deny a quick burst of laughter. She lifted her chin. "Share something…salacious."

His soft and thoughtful hum chased a shiver across her skin. "Salacious…" He caressed the word. Severus' voice was a sensual weapon and the bloody man knew it. "Thayer Prince, an ancestor many times removed, found himself suddenly head of the Prince Line."

Severus pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw and she gasped. Her fingers snaked through his loose hair and he gave a quiet groan of pleasure. He moved lower, his mouth finding the line and dip of her clavicle.

"Thayer had been idling his time away in Italy, paying court to the Borgias."

Hermione snorted. "Yours is such a wanton family."

Severus paused over the swell of her breast. "And I plan to follow in the fine Prince tradition." He flicked his tongue against her peaked nipple and Hermione gasped, her spine arching, pushing her breast to his lips. He licked and sucked, catching her nipple between his teeth and sparking lightning down deep into her belly.

"Sweet Circe, Severus!" Light danced behind her eyes and her hands scrabbled against the sheets. So close, she was so close to coming and he'd barely touched her.

He paused, his teeth an edge of pressure somewhere between pleasure and pain. Hermione willed her eyes open and met his. Dark. Wicked. His tongue flickered and her body fired out of her control. For a wild second, a surge of blinding fire swept over and through her, igniting her flesh and breaking a half sob from her dried mouth.

He was going to kill her. Kill her with pleasure. The thought swirled as her still trembling body eased back to the warm sheets with Severus' weight, his skin still covering her. Some part of her dissolved brain remembered how to breathe again.

Hermione's bleared gaze found his smug grin. Her hit of bliss left her only able to smile in return.

"A skill from Thayer Prince?"

Severus let out a long breath. "No." He kissed the underside of her breast and a long shiver rippled over her still sensitised skin. "But he had…similar appetites."

He dropped a kiss against her breastbone, his gaze fixed on her. The heat, the want in his eyes spun fresh desire within her flesh, her heart drumming. His hot skin, his touch, and sharing depraved secrets in the darkness… He really was going to kill her.

Severus' voice was a low, velvet warmth. "Thayer came back to this House bitter and angry. After the opulent excesses of Rome, England –and this damp corner of it— was more of a punishment than an honour."

As he began his tale, a large hand stroked her damp thigh, his rough-padded thumb drawing swirls and slow patterns, teasing her, and causing her to shift, to open up to him. Severus' dick brushed against her mons and Hermione's breath caught. Her husband's smile was shark-bright and in that moment she could see the wicked reflection of his ancestors.

Her tentative fingers brushed the hard angle of his shoulder. Nerves warred with her desire. What should she do? To him, for him? She loathed being ignorant.

"He took a wife." Severus surged over her, his mouth ghosting over hers. "A beautiful little witchling by the name of Mavra. Pure.  _Untouched_."

The word burned against her lips and Hermione groaned. She clutched at him now, her fingers biting into tough shoulder muscles. Severus pushed against her, the cradle of her thighs holding him, his dick hot and hard against her skin. "He…?" Her question came out on a quick breath as Severus' fingers skirted her hip to cup her backside. "He corrupted her?"

"He tried." A dark grin moved against her mouth. "But –like you— little Marva had a taste for  _darkness_."

The blunt head of his dick pressed against her clit and a broken "Severus!" burst from her. Fingers distracted her, slipping, pushing and a sharp stab of pain forced a yelp.

"Hermione…" His voice was raw, almost choked, his eyes crushed shut as his fingers stilled. "I…"

"Untouched." She murmured the word and pressed her palm to his cheek. She flicked a glance to the vial on the table. The runes glowed silver, the first drops of her virgin's blood slicking the glass. Looking back to her husband, his dark eyes held her. Want burned and something else she couldn't quite read. His fingers dipped again, slow, so slow and new curls of pleasure wound through her flesh.

Severus' mouth burned against hers. "Such a gift."

His fingers pushed deeper, just enough, enough to make her hips rock against his. Searching for…something. Her breath was tight. She snatched at his shoulders, his arms, even as those clever,  _clever_  fingers curled and stroked…

Hermione arched under him, her jaw locked in a soundless scream. The hit of pleasure was swift, brutal, smashing over her, wiping everything from her brain. Her body shook, the ripples of white-hot joy too much, too—

Severus fierce thrust. Hard. So deep. Filling her. She thought she cried out, but the wild mix of pleasure and pain seared every nerve. She couldn't breathe. She didn't know how. Gods above and below, this couldn't get any better, it couldn't…but then –dear gods— he started to move.

Hermione found his mouth. Clung to him. Her lips, her teeth, her tongue demanding, ferocious. She wrapped herself around him worse than Devil's Snare and urged him harder, faster, deeper, losing herself in the riot of pleasure that owned her flesh.

"He took her like this." Severus growled the words, breaking their kiss and burying his face against her neck. He thrust against her. Again and again. Hard. Relentless. "Fucked her. Made her his. No one else's.  _No one's_." His teeth grazed her skin and Hermione bucked harder, the pain of his bite wanted. His. She was his. Completely. "Thayer never shared her. Never took anyone else. Didn't  _need_  another." His hips rolled against hers and she fought to breathe under the fresh onslaught of joy. Obsidian eyes held her. Fierce. Possessive. " _I_  don't."

So close. She was so close to another blistering release. There. Just…

"Let go, Hermione."

His voice. Raw. Pure sin. The coils of tension snapped. Fire chased through her veins. What he was doing to her, what he could do to her was insanity. "Gods, Severus…"

She wanted to see him now. Know that she could push him over the edge to ecstasy. He'd already given her so much pleasure. Seen her completely fall apart. "You're mine." She grabbed at his firm backside. "Come for me."

His whole body stiffened, a half-cry breaking from him. Sudden heat filled her and he pulled her hard against him, rolling on the wide mattress. He peppered kisses against her mouth, her cheeks, eyes and forehead.

"My witchling wife." The endearment was a sigh against her tangled hair and Hermione smiled even as sleep found her.

 


	7. Chapter 7

This is the first piece of any work I've finished in about 18 months. Hugs a scowling Potions Master very carefully...

* * *

Hermione woke to a shaft of sunlight warming her bare shoulder and lancing across her face. She frowned, reluctant to open her eyes to the glare. She was warm. Unusually warm and since when had she slept wrapped around a bolster? A long, heated, satin smooth…

She squeaked and pressed her hand to her mouth. She risked opening one eye. The plane of Severus Snape's deliciously bare chest swept out before her. Sunlight warmed his pale skin, making it almost irresistible. So she didn't resist.

Her fingertips traced a slow, light line, teasing through the smattering of chest hair to draw decreasing circles around his nipple. The gold of her ring shone and her heart twisted tight in a welcomed pain. Hers. He was hers. Utterly. Completely.

"Are you not tired, madam?"

His dark voice, deepened and rough after sleep, ran a shivery ripple of pleasure over her skin. She planted her chin on his chest and smirked at him. "I don't need much sleep. One of the benefits of youth, I believe."

Severus growled at her. This jaw was darkened, the hints of bristles breaking through his skin, whilst his hair was messy and rather wonderfully tumbled. In the fresh morning light, he looked completely edible. His obsidian eyes held her. "And what of age and experience. And…stamina?"

"Admirable qualities," her smile was sweet, "in the elderly."

A half yelp burst from her as with a scarily swift flip, Hermione was on her back and Severus had planted himself between her thighs. "I'll add skill, strength and speed to that list."

Her heart in her throat, she scrambled to think of some witty reply and stumbled across, "The S word today then?"

His black eyes glittered and his smile was wicked. He rolled his hips and his morning erection teased against her. Her breath caught. The sudden pulse of need fired through her and she met his slow, sensuous slide. Shit, even she was thinking in S words now…

"Sex," he murmured, his velvet voice wrapping the word in sin. His mouth dipped to hers. "Favourite word of the morning."

"An excellent—"

He eased into the tightness of her body, so slowly that she could ignore the aches in places she never knew she  _could_  ache. Severus' arms rippled with tremors, his jaw clenched and his eyes firmly shut. He looked that way the night before, as if she was too much for him. The heat, the power in that moment caught her breath. She stroked his jaw, wanting to ease the pressure.

His eyes opened, bright with want and lust. "You're real," he murmured.

Hermione moved with the undulation of his hips. Sparks of joy danced through her flesh. "I intend to real for a very long time."

Severus let out a low growl and his mouth found hers—

—and in another heartbeat he was ripped away.

"What the fuck!" His wand was in his hand and the red streak of a hex narrowly missed a large eagle owl. It gave out an almost barking cry, dumped its letters onto the rumpled bed and vanished up the wide chimney.

Severus sank back onto the bed and let out a string of curses.

Hermione groaned and pressed her hands to her face. The moment was gone, lost in sudden nerves.

Her heart still pounded. "That was…unexpected."

Severus huffed a soured laugh. "Come here." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into the warmth and strength of his body. A long sigh escaped him. He pressed a kiss to her tangled hair. "Letters, breakfast and then I am yours to do with as you please." Another owl swept from the chimney, dumped  _The Daily Prophet_  and fled. Obviously owls shared news of dangerous clients. He scowled after the creature. "And this."

The rolling, visible headline tightened her belly.  _War Hero_   _Severus Snape Caught... In Claws of Hermione Granger._  Well, fuck. They hadn't detained Rita Skeeter long in St Mungo's. Why had she  _ever_  put air holes in that bloody jar?

Hermione drew in his scent, familiar and overlaid with tantalising reminders of their time together. "We had a whole undisrupted night. I'd say we're doing well."

"True." He held up his hand and the thick packet of letters soared towards him. There was more than one thin line of red in the wedge of envelopes. He frowned. "I have to read them all."

Hermione winced. She wanted nothing more that to hide from the dislike, the distrust of the wizarding world. But she knew that wasn't wise. "I'd rather know what people are saying about me."

"'To know your enemy, you must become your enemy'."

She winced. "Please, Sun Tzu,  _this_  early?"

His mouth twitched upwards. "I really did marry the most insufferable know-it-all."

Pressing a kiss to his chest, she grinned up at him. "You did."

"Howlers first?"

Her stomach tensed. Severus gave a comforting squeeze and she nodded. "Howlers first."

At the touch of his wand, the first of the blood-red envelopes burst open. Molly Weasley's strident voice filled the chamber.

_"Hermione Granger, how could you? And with your teacher! It's a disgrace. Indecent. I'm appalled._

_"You led my Ron on. I was ready to welcome you into the family. Looked forward to the soon-to-be day I would call you my daughter. Ron is devastated. I hope you're happy, making a foul bed with a foul man."_

And with a flourish the red parchment tore itself up into tiny pieces before vanishing with a faint pop.

"That was…expected." Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. Mrs Weasley had always held two ideas of her in her mind. The upstanding Hermione who was just what her son needed. And the other Hermione, the wanton harlot eager for any man who would have her. It had never made sense how Ron's mother could happily hold such divergent views.

"She knows Ron could never keep you," Severus murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Her disappointment shows as anger. She knows your worth, and disparages what has escaped her."

Hermione pressed her face to his chest, his familiar scent easing the knot twisting tight around her heart. "A lucky escape."

"Indeed." Another red envelope hovered over them. "And who do we have next?"

Ron's angry splutterings erupted and Hermione groaned.

 _"What were you thinking, Mione? Snape? You married…"_  The sound of low mutterings filled the next few seconds. Was he scared to directly insult the Potions Master? Severus had offered a sharp reminder of  _exactly_  who he was, after all.  _"You led me on. The ring was in my pocket last night. We were meant to be together and you ruined it!"_

"I hardly think so," Severus murmured as the howler eviscerated itself.

"It'll be what he's telling his family." She glanced at the rolled newspaper at the foot of the bed with its glaring headlines. "And Rita Skeeter."

"I'm going to enjoy being bound to an evil temptress." Severus squeezed her tight as she snorted a laugh. "It'll make life decidedly less dull."

"And the last one?"

_"Are you stringing her along, Severus Snape?"_

"Oh, Harry." Hermione closed her eyes and snaked her arm over the warmth of her husband's waist, needing to hold him. Tight. Fuck, The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Make-Her-Life-Difficult was sticking his head in the dragon's mouth. Lily Potter should not be up for discussion when she was happily naked with Severus. She'd wanted, needed time before she had to tackle  _her_. A decade or two had sounded good.

 _"You told Dumbledore that you'd always love my mother. Always, Snape. That doesn't leave much room for a wife, does it? Let Hermione go. She loves Ron. The_ romance _," Harry gagged on the word, "of the moment caught her. Give her her life back."_

The letter vanished and there was silence. Stillness.

Hermione swallowed, wanting to fill that silence, to reassure Severus that it didn't matter, that she knew Lily would always be a part of his heart, his soul. That she was very happy with the little corner that belonged to her…

 _"Expecto Patronum."_ The charm was clear and sure. Silvered light burst from Severus' wand and a form moved within the mist before it began to coalesce. A lion, large with a shaggy mane, leapt down from the bed and padded across the carpets. It looked back at them with dark, knowing eyes before Severus vanished the spell. "You saw my memories?"

"No." She swallowed and wet her lips, her mouth too dry. "No. He told me something of them, but I refused to look. They were yours. I made Harry take an Oath not to share them –or what they contained— with anyone after your closed trial." They had cleared him, but some idiot at the ministry had leaked parts of the trial transcripts to the press. The whole wizarding world knew of his unwavering devotion to Lily Evans.

"Harry is referring to the night I showed Albus my patronus. At that time, it was still a reflection of Lily, still a doe. I did love her. For the longest time. She was the only sane memory I had and I clung to it fiercely. Beyond all reason.

"When I awoke this week, my patronus had changed." He tilted her chin up. His voice was soft. "Cast yours for me, Hermione."

Reluctantly, she pulled free of him and reached for her wand. Her patronus was an otter, a playful gamboling little thing. But in that moment, she wanted that lion's mate to burst from her wand. "Cast him again," she murmured and watched the sombre lion flow into the world.

She closed her eyes and drew on her memories. Seeing Severus again, feeling him warm and real in her arms. His skin, his taste, murmuring that he loved her. She spoke the charm.

Its joy leapt from her and she counted seconds before she could open her eyes. A lioness stood on the floor, casting a wary eye on the lion before her. He padded forward and nuzzled the lioness' neck, a look of peace clearing his dark gaze.

Tears stung her eyes. Hermione pressed a hand to her mouth, stopping the half laugh, half sob that broke away. "Don't…don't think this means I'm providing your every meal. You should know now that I really can't cook. Or bring down an antelope."

Severus pulled her too him, laughing as he buried his face in the wildness of her hair. "Believe me, Hermione, I can live happily without ever suffering your over-boiled antelope." He drew in a not-quite-steady breath. "But you see?" His voice sounded oddly choked. "Mr Potter is talking out of his backside."

"They're all against us."

"And?"

Hermione could practically feel the lift of his oh-so-imperious eyebrow. She wanted to be as strong as him…but she doubted there'd ever been a wizard, a man as unflinchingly strong as Severus Snape.

" _You_  give me strength."

She huffed a breath against his throat to ignore the wrench in her chest. "Slipping into my thoughts again?"

"I don't need to." He eased back. Obsidian eyes held her. "I know you." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "And it's an honour." His half-smile faded. "Yes, there will be howlers and cutting headlines, and things will be said behind your back and to your face. But we… This is worth it."

And for a stretched heartbeat, a flicker of doubt cut through his sure gaze. Guilt stabbed at her. She'd put that there. Fuck.  _Fuck_.

He was right. He was  _completely_  right. He was worth any amount of rampant stupidity from friends or strangers. He was hers and she adored him.

Hermione flung herself at her husband. Papers scattered but she didn't care. "Forget the rest of them. All of it. Forget breakfast. I want you. Now. Forever."

Severus dipped his forehead to hers with a soft sigh. "Always, wife. Always."

 


End file.
